Greatest Creations
by Celesteennui
Summary: Post Movie. Snapshots of Tony's life as he figures this whole "fatherhood" thing out. For a former self-centered playboy, he isn't doing too bad. Pepper/Tony with hints of Natasha/Clint. Part one in the "Invictus" series.
1. Speaking in the Tongues of Men & Angels

******Disclaimer: **Just playing in the Marvel sandbox and making no money for it. I hope you enjoy this chapter and please review if you did. They make me feel fuzzy.

* * *

**Part One: T-Minus Eight Weeks**

**Song: Depeche Mode-Enjoy the Silence**

**Words: 359**

It gives him nightmares for weeks, nightmares that, for the longest time, he can't talk to anyone about. Real nightmares, the kind that have him waking up sweating, shaking, and choking back a scream. The only lucky thing about them is that, with his erratic sleep patterns, he always has them after falling asleep at his work table. It's worth being doused awake by Robot to keep this trouble Pepper.

Seven weeks. He'd—by the strictest and most technical of terms—been a father for seven weeks when he decided to finally be a team player and he hadn't even known it. The complexity of Tony's fear is thickened by confusion as he can't decide if it's something to be regretted. And all of that compounds spectacularly as he tries to figure out just how he feels about being a father.

There's the smile and all of the expected jubilance for Pepper, Rhodey, and other friends and associates, of course. Honestly, though? Inside he's a little numb.

Tony has three really good memories of his own father. When he was five Howard sat him in his lap and let him pretend to drive his 1957 Ferrari 250 Testa Rossa down the California coast. It's his one and only memory of his father holding him to boot. The first engine he put together his father had smiled, patted his shoulder, and told him what a fine job he had done. The last he couldn't even be sure counted since it was a recorded message he didn't get to see until it had been on the shelf thirty years or so. Those were the good memories he had of Howard Stark. All of them. And they were what made Tony so sure that there was no way in hell that he'd ever be an adequate parent.

And then he hears the heartbeat. Slight static and the beeping of other machines surround it but it's still there. Steady and strong. So, so, _so_ very strong and all coming from some fuzzy mass on a screen.

That's _his_ greatest creation, that as-of-right-now genderless, faceless, nameless little thing growing inside Pepper's swollen belly.

With that realization, Tony isn't afraid anymore.

**Part Two: Four Hours**

**Song: Me First and the Gimme Gimmes-Isn't She Lovely**

**Words: 847**

New Baby Smell is a real thing. It's better than New Car Smell and even twelve-hundred dollar cognac. For the most part; every once in-awhile New Baby Smell turns into New Baby Stink. But honestly? Tony doesn't hate that.

"Do you think she'll get beard burn?" he asks Pepper. "Like, if I kiss her face too much, is that a possibility?" The baby isn't fussing; in fact, she seems to be fast asleep. It seems that Tony has severely underestimated how comfortable his shoulder could be.

His fiancée and the mother of this wonderful thing he can't put down, is still a workaholic, even while in recovery from childbirth. Not that there's much to recover from, Pepper, ever the professional, scheduled her C-section right down to the grade of epidural she had wanted _and_ already had a date set to fix the scar. Right now, she was contentedly typing away orders to her various underlings while enjoying whatever was in her IV.

Pepper smirks and takes a sip of her apple juice. "Seems highly unlikely. Maybe you should put her down for a while, though, just in case?"

He takes two steps back from the bed and twists, like by some miracle, Pepper will jump up and never let him hold their daughter again. Like a child his automatic response is, "_No_, _mine_."

"Oh, good lord." She rolls her eyes but still laughs. "You're hopeless. You'll have to put her down at some point. Little Miss Stark has things like crawling and walking to learn, you know."

"Meh, all of that's optional," he jokes. "Tell her, Junior, Daddy's _way_ too comfortable to go and do any of that." He kisses the side of her dark head—she came out with a full shock of black, just like he had—for what has to be the millionth time since he got her.

"You're going to cry when she goes to school."

"Very likely."

Pepper smiles at him, at _them_, really, and it's a sort of love in her eyes that he hasn't seen before. Still, he can tell what it is: completeness.

"So, we should probably get around to a name," Pepper says after a few minutes of what, under normal circumstances, Tony would refer to as them being all dopey-goo-goo eyes at one another. She closes the lid of her laptop and leans back against her pillows.

"I thought Little Miss Stark was pretty good." He sits down in the chair beside the bed, close enough so that Pepper can reach out and run a hand over their daughter's back. "I mean, it's a little long but—"

"No."

"Not even gonna consider it?"

"Nope."

Tony heaves a very dramatic, put-upon sigh. "You're already making us argue, kid, you're gonna be bad news."

"Just wait until she starts talking," Pepper says. She opens the laptop back up. "So, I made a list…"

"Oh no."

"Hey, one of us had too."

"I made a suggestion after the ultrasound. Merlot. That's how she got here, after all."

"You are _forbidden_ from ever telling her that."

"'Course, then, her middle name should be Ferrari…"

"_No_."

"There's no pleasing you."

The love of his life simply shakes her head. She doesn't seem too put-off, though. There's still a smile on her face and her fingers occasionally graze his while they run gentle circles across the baby's back.

"I um…I actually thought of a real one, no joke," he says after a few moments of just enjoying the quiet.

Pepper says nothing, just looks up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Phil."

That eyebrow rises higher.

"Just hear me out," he says. "He was a good guy, a good friend. You liked him. Besides," he looks down at his daughter, noticing that one of her small, pink hands is curled against the arc reactor on his chest. He swallows. "Besides, without him, we wouldn't have had a chance against Loki. He…pushed us."

"He _was_ a great man," Pepper concedes, though Tony's not entirely sure that she's been sold.

"I think the least a guy like that deserves is a namesake," he points out.

For a second or two Pepper's face is unreadable, it's her "thinking" face and Tony knows to be wary of it. It's followed more often than not by something he dislikes.

"We're putting 'Phyllis' on the birth certificate," she finally says.

"_Phyllis_?" Tony can't resist making a face because, really, it's one of the most awful combinations of sounds that he has ever heard. "Ugh, that sounds _dusty_. Might as well put down 'Mothball' Stark."

"Phyllis…_Aubrey_," Pepper continues, knowing she's won, "For my nana."

He sighs again. "I'm still calling her Phil. _Phyllis_ is only coming out when she's been a bad, bad, girl. Like, burned down the lab bad. Or stolen a jet bad."

Apple juice almost flies out of Pepper's nose. "Yeah, you go ahead and pretend that that would _never_ happen."

"Phil, hurry up and learn to talk so you can sass Mommy with me."

"That's when _I'm_ calling her 'Phyllis'," Pepper says.

**Part Three: Six Months**

**Song: Blue October-Blue Skies**

**Words: 463**

Phil is his daughter one-hundred percent; even Natasha, who has made her dislike for anything that wears a diaper quite clear, will say so with a smile. The second she learns how to use those vocal chords, the girl is chatting everyone's ear off with strings of incoherent vowels and consonants. Tony loves to watch her; she looks at everything with big eyes; the whole world is shiny and new to her. He hopes against hope she never loses that spark of wonder.

She seems to enjoy watching him as much as he enjoys watching her. The Avengers and certain projects for Stark International do force him out of the house but he's still there more than Pepper. The nanny/bodyguard—a 'gift' of sorts from Nick, Clint, and Nat—spends most of her time boxing with Happy. Or bringing down bottles and sandwiches, former Special Agent Claire McMillan makes a damn fine Rueben.

If Tony is in the lab, Phil is in the lab, and neither of them would change it. She'll watch, from the protective 'bubble' he made to shield her from welding flames, fumes, and any other possible dangers, rapt on whatever he's doing. Or making faces at Robot. She really, really, likes that hunk of junk. When he's doing stuff that's more mundane, hacking, schematics, and such, she's in his lap or in the baby harness.

"Hey, keep your fingers back, Junior," he warns her one afternoon as he plays with new suit ideas at his drawing board. She probably can't reach across the board to mess with the hologram he's sketching up _and_ Jarvis is aware of her. Still, Phil's got to learn what she can and can't touch; he's both relishing and dreading when he can start teaching her the fundamentals of chemistry.

She looks up at him, burbles something, then shoves her fist into her mouth.

"If I may say, sir, she listens much better than you do."

"Well, she can't be perfect, Jarvis. Can you, huh?" He drops the stylus to run his index finger along Phil's cheek. "Say, '_no, Daddy, but I'm not but I'm oh-so close_'."

"Please, stop encouraging her narcissism. She's _your_ kid; it'll be naturally out of hand soon enough." He turns just in time to see Pepper clicking capture on her camera. "Aw…high-def drool. So cute."

"Say '_Mommy, _all_ of me is cute_'." Lifting Phil out of her harness, he approaches his very-soon-to-be wife for a kiss. She kisses back and swipes the baby from him in the process.

"Hey, that's mine!"

"No, it's fifty-percent yours."

"I _knew_ that twelve-percent thing was coming back."

Holding their daughter up in the crook of her arm, there's a downright devious spark in Pepper's eye. "Say, _'It wasn't even subtle either, was it Daddy?'_"

**Part Four: Eighteen Months**

**Song: OneRepublic-Mercy**

**Words: 315**

"Can we just _please_ call?"

"I can't believe _you're_ doing this now. It's our honeymoon. Private island, no work whatsoever for two weeks. When are we both ever going to have this kind of time and privacy again?"

"What if she needs something?"

"That's what Claire's for, Honey. We certainly pay her enough."

"Claire doesn't sing the Night-Night Song!"

Pepper rolls her eyes and Tony can tell by the twitching of her hands that she's very close to taking the bottle Château d'Yquem and smacking him upside the head with it.

"Tony," his name comes out from between gritted teeth, "it's six A.M. in Manhattan right now. Phil is asleep. The time for the Night-Night Song is _way_ passed."

He _knows_ that he's being irrational; he will not even attempt to argue that. And, quite frankly, Tony is probably more upset with himself for this behavior than his new bride is. It's ridiculous; Phil's safe, more than safe, she has Happy, Jarvis, and Claire looking out for her every need _and_ Steve is house-sitting just in case some idiot attempts to play super villain.

Having a baby has _really_ warped him.

He must look pretty pathetic because the next thing Tony knows Pepper is shaking her head and handing his phone back over. She leans across the table, cupping his face in one hand as she presses her lips to his.

"Ten minutes," she whispers against his mouth. "Then you need to be in the master bedroom."

Watching her slink up the stairs Tony is _very_ tempted to let this go. The thought of Phil doing without the Night-Night Song, though, overrides his hormones. Of all of the things he's done that's gotten him into the tabloids, _this_ is the one that really deserves attention.

Tony Stark billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist, has just hesitated to have sex.

"Phil, sweetie, you've ruined me for other women."

**Part Five: Three Years, Ten Months**

**Song: Paul Simon-Father And Daughter**

**Words: 371**

Her first word that counted ("dada" and "goop" were deemed gibberish by Pepper), "robot", came when she was about nine months. "Capsicle" was a debatable second—though Steve _finally_ thought the nickname was hilarious, as long it came out of a giggling toddler. Her first steps came around month eight. Both came in flurries once she had them down. Tony would find that this would be the case with many, many, things that pertained to his daughter.

It's always been clear that Phil had inherited the Stark intellect—_and_ smart mouth, which Pepper constantly mourns—but the day that he comes home to find her in the lab, pulling apart one of the spare processors, is still something that throws him. She barely even blinks when he kneels down beside her, studying the neat arrangement she's made of the parts. Above her, Robot is holding her juice box, eagerly awaiting her attention.

"You um…you need any help, Junior?"

She turns her head up, those big brown eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Nope." And then she goes back her work.

"Okay, then."

It stings, just a little, because he knows that this is the start. She's _him_ and Tony knows how stubborn and independent he's always been, how hard it's been for him to connect with people. He doesn't want all of that for her, the loneliness, the doubt, and everything that comes with being too smart for your own good. Most of all he doesn't want her to not need him.

He starts for his own workstation, opening up his latest project. After a few minutes, and while he's waiting for Jarvis to run a diagnostic, he opens a bag of blueberry granola. Not two seconds later there's a warm weight crawling up into his lap. Phil grins up at him and offers her juice box.

"I'm on break. Share."

He smiles back and takes a sip while holding out the granola to her. They sit together for time, with their granola and juice, and Phil babbles questions about what he's working on. As he explains nano-technology to her, Tony is confident that Phil is going to be just fine, because _he_ is going to be there to make sure of it.

**Part Six: Five Years, Two Months**

**Song: Rod Stewart-Forever Young**

**Words: 465**

Baby Number Two is _nothing_ like Baby Number One and not just because he has to be delivered in a safe house while Tony and the team are busy keeping the latest evil spree from ruining everything. James Howard Stark comes into the world bald, tiny, and as quiet as his big sister was loud while his father can't be there. Tony can't regret it much, Rhodey, Claire and Happy took good care of Pepper and chances are if he hadn't been out "playing in his suit" (Rhodey's joke) there wouldn't have been much waiting for Jamie on the outside.

Still, holding this Greatest Creation in his arms feels just as wonderful as the first one did.

"So, what do you think, Junior?" he asks, showing Phil her new brother. "Are we gonna keep him?"

Phil, who is curled in Rhodey's lap and exploiting his weakness for those big brown eyes of hers to get the Reece Pieces he always keeps on hand, glances over at the squishy bundle. She has a very discerning look on her face, like a food critic sizing up whether or not they'd deign to drop a couple of moral pegs and eat a cheeseburger. Finally, her eyes flick up to him and she doesn't miss a beat.

"Do I actually get say?"

"Sure you do," he says. "You don't like him, he goes. We Fed-Ex him right back. Right, Rhodey?"

"Absolutely," Rhodey plays along. "Can't have a soldier who doesn't mesh with the entire unit."

Interest piqued, Phil abandons her godfather and approaches the bench Tony is sitting on. The look on her face is a little less snotty and much more open to possibilities.

"Where would he go?" she asks clambering up beside Tony for a better view. "If we decided he wasn't good for the unit?"

Tony shrugs. "Who knows? Wouldn't really be our problem."

Her eyes widen at that; for a kid so smart she's awfully bad at seeing through a joke. He'll miss that naïveté, though, once she finally gets herself nice and jaded by the big bad world outside. Phil reaches out, running a small finger along her brother's arm, like she's having trouble believing that tiny things like him are even real. When she gets down to his little hand, it reflexively curls around her finger and she jumps in surprise.

She's sold; Tony knows it, even if his girl doesn't. She's him, after all, and he's pretty familiar with the look she's wearing.

"I guess he can stay. For now." She nudges his arm a not-so-subtle demand for affection. Tony obliges and wraps his free arm across her shoulders, reassuring her that she's not being replaced. "I don't think Mommy would be happy if you put him back where he came from."

**Part Seven: Six Years, Five Months**

**Song: Sarah McLachlan-World on Fire**

**Words: 1,145**

Tony would never think of himself as someone worthy of giving advice. At least when it didn't come to cars, physics, or good drinks. So, when Steve needs help with Bucky, it amazes them both that Tony is where he gets it.

The captain and his foundling/clone have come over for a play date; yes, the irony of two superheroes scheduling play dates is not lost on him at all and certainly not on Pepper who'll be giggling about it for _years_. Bucky, give or take the time he spent in his test tube womb, is around Phil's age and the two of them get along pretty well. Probably too well; Tony can see many shenanigans in their future pulling he and Steve out of bed in the wee hours of the morning.

"No going into the lab," he tells Phil sternly as he and Steve leave the two in the playroom.

"Yes, Daddy." She says it just like he would if he were lying.

"I _mean_ it, Phil. You're still on thin ice from last week."

_Now_ she huffs just like he would. "I was just teaching Robot how to rock Jamie!"

"Yes and there will be no repeats, will there?"

"_No, Daddy_."

"Uh-huh. Be good." He winks at her and shuts the door.

Steve's eyebrows are close to his hairline when Tony turns around. "She taught the Robot to rock her brother?"

"Tried." Tony corrects. "Luckily, Robot didn't take and just put him down."

"And I thought _you_ worried me."

"You know, I get that," Tony says as they move into the living room. "So, you want a soda or something?"

Steve sinks down onto the couch and gives him a smile that seems a little thin. "Won't say no to a Coke."

In the two months since Steve decided that he was going to raise the clone as his own, Tony has noticed something off in the captain. He's not sure what it is, SHEILD doctors and psychologists gave the kid a clean bill of health so it can't be that Bucky's sick. He may be a miniature super-soldier but he's also the mellowest little boy Tony's ever seen, he doubts that it can be something with his behavior.

Still, there's no denying a new weariness lining Steve's face and pinching his big shoulders. He looks like he hasn't been sleeping well and there's a heavy shadow on his jaw, something Tony hasn't seen in the nearly seven years of their friendship.

"Feeling okay?" he asks handing over Steve's Coke. "Got some bags under your eyes, Capsicle." Steve shakes his head at the jab but there's a half-smile tugging at the edge of his mouth anyway.

There's no other response for a few seconds, Tony sits down in the armchair across from Steve and throws various sports channels up onto the holoscreens that surround the sitting area. He knows virtually nothing about sports—unless it's racing—but Steve likes pretty much anything involving teams, being the all American boy he is. If nothing else, there won't be any awkward silences.

"How do you do it?" Steve finally asks after about two minutes of feigning interest in the Red Sox and Orioles.

Tony leans forward in his seat. "You're gonna have to specify, Cap. I think—"

"You know what I mean," Steve cuts him off with a wave of his hand. His tone isn't impatient or angry but it _is_ tired and Tony decides that they need to skip over the usual witty repartee. "With Phil and Jamie. How do you…be a father? Be a _dad_?"

"I um…" This is the first time in a very, very long time that Tony's been rendered speechless. Steve, doesn't seem to notice it, though, since he keeps talking.

"I mean, you are _really_ good with Phil and Jamie. When I first met you I thought you were just an overgrown, egotistical kid out to impress everybody."

"Thanks, man."

"Tony, sometimes you're an ass and you know it."

He can't argue that and he concedes with a nod.

Steve looks down at his hands, rubbing them together. "I feel like I've been pushed into a cave and blindfolded. I don't—I never even thought about being a dad, you know? I mean once, when Peggy and I…but…" Steve clears his throat and Tony pretends not to notice the other man's suddenly red nose.

"How do you know what to do, Tony?" Steve asks. "Because I really don't."

Twice in one day, Goddamn. Tony will give Steve that much, he's very good at the implausible.

Surprisingly, though, when he's over the shock of such a compliment, the right thing comes very easily to mind.

"You love him?" he asks taking a drink of his wheatgrass smoothie.

"What?"

"Do you love him?" Tony tries not enjoy the way Steve's jaw drops too much. "Okay, let me simplify. You worry about him, right?"

"Yeah...but—"

"No, no, indulge me. So you worry about him, good. You care about what he thinks of you?"

"I—Yeah. I do. Tony, what's the point—?"

Tony holds up his hand. "One more, promise. Now, do you think that your life would be worse if the kid wasn't in it?

_That_ one seems to knock Steve quite a bit, still his response is automatic. "Yes."

Relaxing back in his chair, and not bothering to hide the smug sense of superiority he is currently feeling, Tony downs the last of his smoothie. It may happen more often than it does with him, but leaving Captain America speechless is still something to savor.

"You'll do fine," he tells the other man. "'Cause, honestly? All I'm doing is that. Loving them. And, well, diaper changing but you lucked out and missed that stage. You also missed the New Baby Smell, stage, though, so." He shrugs.

Steve finally cracks a smile. "New Baby Smell?"

"Best thing ever."

**Part Eight: Seven Years, Four Months**

**Song: Michelle Branch-I'll Always Be Right There**

**Words: 643**

Being the parent of a prodigy can be a trying thing, Tony is learning, and especially when said prodigy is a Stark. Luckily, it appears that he's only going to have to deal with _one_ of those. Where Phil is all him, Jamie, thank goodness, is all Pepper, and not just in his freckles and bright hair. His sister may have the Stark smarts but the boy clearly has the Potts common sense; arguably a more useful thing.

Particularly when it comes to warning him that Phil is going to do something reckless on the nanny's day off.

"Phyllis Aubrey Stark, get down here right _now_!" Tony charges out onto the patio with Jamie on his hip and a net gun in the other. Phil, wearing what appears to be a homemade jetpack (definitely not one of his), is standing on the Iron Man landing, like she's preparing to jump. It's a good thing that his heart is mechanical because he's sure _this_ would put him into cardiac arrest otherwise.

She looks back at him as if he's just ordered her to never touch chocolate again. "But, _Daaad_! I have to see if this is stable!"

"It's called a diagnostics test and you can do it in the lab!" He shouts back.

"But that's no fun!"

"I don't care what's fun!" One of the biggest lies he's ever told. "Now get over here right this minute! Because if I have to put on the suit and come get you, you are going to be very sorry, young lady!"

"Ugh! Fine!" And she trudges over. "Tattletale!" she growls at Jamie who hides his face in Tony's shirt.

"Damn right he's a tattletale," Tony says grabbing her by the arm. Once they're back in the building he drops down on one knee to look her over, making sure she's really all right. She is, of course, and while he still wants to strangle her, there's a stronger urge to hold her, which Tony follows. Then he sends her to her room, promising that he and her mother will discuss her punishment when Pepper gets home.

An hour or so later, when Tony is just _finally_ able to stop shaking, Jamie toddles into the lab. Since Jamie is generally very good about taking his afternoon naps, he knows something is wrong. That and Jamie is holding LooLoo; he only drags that poor giraffe around when he's upset or sick or any combination thereof.

"Hey, Buddy, watcha doing?" he asks, saving everything at his work station before scooping Jamie up. His son doesn't say anything, just tucks his head down, and wraps both arms around Tony's neck.

"She's neber gon talk ta me 'gain." Tony almost misses the words, they're spoken so softly against the fabric of his shoulder.

"Aww, Buddy." He pats Jamie's back and sits down. "She's just mad she got caught. Give her a couple days and she'll forget all about this."

"Nuh-ugh." Jamie's freckled face is absolutely miserable as he stares up at his father. "She hates me."

"Yeah-huh." He takes the stuffed giraffe. "Listen to LooLoo." Tony clears his throat before speaking again in his LooLoo voice—something that is unnaturally high in tone and that Natasha would never let him live down if she ever heard it. "_Your sister's just a hothead like your Daddy. She'll calm down and go back to sharing her LEGOS with you real soon._" Jamie giggles as LooLoo peppers his nose with kisses. "_LooLoo promises, 'kay?_"

"'Kay, LooLoo." He's grinning again, a great victory as far as Tony's concerned. Putting LooLoo back in Jamie's arms, he stands.

A quick kiss is pressed to the crown of his son's head. "Ready to get back to naptime? You wanna be full of energy when Mom gets home, right?" Jamie nods, already half-asleep now that everything's been resolved.

**Part Nine: Ten Years, Six Months**

**Song: Coldplay-Fix You**

**Words: 1,151**

At the back of his mind, Tony always knew that it was probably going to happen. Super heroes are never invulnerable and it all it takes is a villain smart enough to get at them. Obadiah had come the closest when he threatened Pepper so many years ago. Tony supposes that he's been lucky that he's gone so long without an attack that personal coming at him. It's _really_ hard to see it that way, though, when he rushes back to the tower to find Claire lying unconscious and bloody on the floor. More upsetting is what he finds in the study; Shockwave is dead and the nano rifle that ate the hole through his gut—the one that he had locked under the best encryptions—is still being clutched by Phil.

Tony is sure as he looks at his kids that nothing will _ever_ be okay again. Phil, the liveliest, smartest child he's ever come across is slumped and ashen faced against the wall. There's no light in her eyes, nothing on her face, and her brother is about the same. He is at least crying, though, showing _something_.

They're broke and it's all his fault for not being quick enough.

Then Phil turns her head and sees him standing in the doorway.

"_Daddy_!" She's a miniature volcano. Dropping the rifle, Phil charges him and he catches her.

His daughter finally lets loose against the cold metal of his suit. Sobbing and jabbering things like "sorry" "scared" and a mash of a thousand other things that he can't really make out but understands nonetheless. He holds onto her and to Jamie when he stumbles over.

"It's okay," he whispers as he kisses any part of them he can get to—eyes, fingers, noses, hair—over and over again. Part of him doesn't really believe his own words, though. "I'm here. It's okay."

Tony's not sure that he'll ever be able to let them go. Many, many, _many_ hours later, however, after Claire's been hospitalized, Pepper's come home, and they've moved the family to the little island just of Catalina, letting them go seems like a damn good solution.

Pepper finds him around seven in the morning in the same spot he's been since they arrived and put the kids to bed: camped outside Phil's room. It took a tranquilizer to get the kids to sleep, though even _that_ couldn't loosen the grip Jamie had on his sister's arm, so they'd let him stay.

"Honey, you've got to get some rest." He feels Pepper's hand running through his hair before her words really register. She's had a little bit of sleep herself, though, looking at her, you could never tell it. Pepper looks like he feels—not that he thinks he's looking any better—bone tired. "You're not going to do them any good if you collapse."

"I don't think I'm doing them any good period." He hates himself, hates the way that his voice is just so _broken _and lost. Hope feels like something he dreamed up a long, long time ago.

"Tony, don't—"

He pulls away from her. "Don't what? Don't take the blame I deserve?"

Her blue eyes narrow and she stands. "Don't let this eat you."

"I almost cost us our _kids_, Pepper!" He can't stop his voice from rising. "_Me_! That's on me!"

"No, a crazy man did!"

"Because. Of. _Me_!" He's all but shouting now. "That nutcase targeted our home, our children, because of me! Because of the suit! Because I fucking _failed_!"

"_No_." Pepper's voice isn't louder than his is, but _damn_ is it powerful. As is the grip in her fingers as she jerks him up and forces him to meet her eyes.

"Listen to me _then_ you can have your meltdown." For all the villains and terrible things that Tony has seen, nothing compares to what's crackling in the hard-edged rings of Pepper's irises right now. She lets him go after a few very tense (and scary, he's man enough to admit that) moments.

"The second I knew Phil was coming I also knew that something like this would probably happen." Her eyes drop down to her bunny slippers and she swallows hard. "And you know I thought…" The slight crack in her voice says much more than her words can. "I thought, for just a second, 'why bother?'. Do you know what I thought right after that?"

He doesn't answer, but then again, she's probably not looking for him to.

The hardness hasn't faded in Pepper's eyes when she looks up but there's a light in them now and despite everything, he's comforted by that.

"Grow the fuck up. _That's_ what came next. Because no matter what precautions that could be taken, no matter what I could choose to do, _nothing_ would change the fact that I don't control any of it."

She steps closer and cups his face in both hands. "We wouldn't be living in a danger-free world even if there wasn't an Iron Man in it. We're just off California; an earthquake can hit at any time and wipe out the coast. Last year when you took Phil surfing in Australia, did you lose sleep over shark attacks, jellyfish, or stingrays? I could have an aneurysm in two seconds; they can't always be detected, you know. This world is chaotic and messy and scary and weird but it's _ours_. And despite all of that or—or maybe even because of it, it is _wonderful_."

Her forehead rests against his and Tony feels something deep down, beneath the metal of his heart, starting to tremble. Pepper must feel it to because her hands slip from his face to wrap around his middle, tight to the point of pain. He's grateful for it though, since everything starts to spill over and he's suddenly unsure of standing on his own.

"We'll get through this." She seals her promise with a kiss to his temple. "The sun's still coming up; we _will_ get through this."

Tony Stark may be Iron Man but, as he crumbles and sobs like a child in the arms of his wife, he _knows_ without a doubt, that Pepper is made of something stronger. Their family _will_ make it through this, but it'll be because she's steering them back to normal.

**Part Ten: Eleven Years, Four Months**

**Song: Massive Attack-Protection**

**Words: 1,225**

He'd always liked Reed Richards. Sure, the guy could be a little ostentatious, but that just came with the territory of genius/superhero. Pepper, Steve, Rhodey, Bruce, pretty much everyone not on Richards' little team, didn't care for him. Tony had always brushed aside the opinions of others, though. Bruce went AWOL too often, Phil was too young, and dammit, he needed to talk geek to _someone_ who understood double entendre once in a while.

When he hears about little Franklin and the coma ray, however, Tony has to admit that, just maybe, he shouldn't have waved off all of the "Mr. Fantastic is a douche" warnings with a "well, _yeah_".

He doesn't know what he would do if it were one of his kids unconsciously threatening the world and he hopes that he _never_ does. Still, Tony's pretty damn sure that he would come up with a much better idea than putting them in a coma. He _knows_ he would, in fact.

The most unsettling thing about poor little Frank, though, is the effect it has on Jamie. The boys went to school together, they were friends. Tony would wager that they were even _best_ friends.

Jamie has it a little rough. His sister is older, (drastically) smarter, and barely has time for him anymore now that she's taking her college entrance exams; Phil would be lonely too except she has Bucky and Max (Nat and Clint's boy). The only one close to Jamie's age is the master assassins' other child, Anna, but they don't get along that well. Franklin was the person _he_ had to talk to and share with. Now Jamie's alone again and Tony isn't sure of what he can say that will alleviate his son's unhappiness.

Luckily, someone else, quite unexpected, has his back on this.

They're staying in the Cambridge house, getting Phil acclimated to the area before she starts MIT in the fall. Tony's just finished with dinner—ordering it counts as a chore—and he heads toward the kids' rooms, intent on gathering them to set the table. Pepper insists they need chores to remind them that, heirs or not, they have to be responsible. Tony thinks they're doing a pretty good job.

He's standing right at the top of the stairs when the soft murmuring of voices stops him from calling out. Jamie's door is the only open one, so Tony assumes that they're in there and even though part of him says it's not right, the rest of him can't resist eavesdropping.

"I miss him." Jamie, of course, though he's hard to hear; Tony can see them sitting against Jamie's bed, backs conveniently to the door.

"I know," is his sister's unusually gentle reply; Phil isn't the most tactful girl (another Stark inheritance).

"No you don't!" Now it's Jamie's turn to be out of character; his son hardly ever raises his voice. He pushes himself away from his sister. "You don't know at all!" The anger in his words is sharp, biting, right to the bone; if Tony can feel it in the hall then it must be driving into Phil without mercy.

He starts to go in, before his daughter can lose patience and make this situation worse. However, as soon as the muscles in Tony's legs start to twitch, there's a response.

"I know that you're scared," Phil says, again so strangely gentle. "And sad."

Jamie doesn't respond but a subtle tilt of his head tells Tony that he's looking at his sister again. There's a short silence where the kids look at each other before Jamie finally speaks. The words that follow break Tony's mechanical heart.

"Do you think Dad would ever—?" The fear laced into each word is _painful_ for Tony to hear and not just because Jamie could be scared of something like that. His boy's voice is wobbling, cracking and even if his head's turned Tony knows that he's crying. The urge to barge in and comfort is almost too much. All that keeps him still is Phil's quick response.

"_No_."

"But—"

"Jamie, _no_," Phil cuts him off. "Listen." She shuffles so that their sides are pressed together again and hooks an arm protectively across his thin shoulders. She's wearing the ridiculously oversized Clash hoodie that Rhodey picked up for her; it swims on her small frame and the sleeve looks like a wing that she's tucking Jamie under.

"Dad would _never_ do that. _Ever_," she tells her brother. "He loves us."

"Frank thought that too," Jamie says miserably.

"Well, Frank didn't have _our_ dad, did he?" Jamie has no response to that so his sister continues. "Ours would _die_ before he let anything like what happened to Franklin happen to us. And so would Mom. And you know what else?"

"What?"

"I'd never let it happen either." The conviction in Phil's voice is startling. It's not that Tony can't take her seriously, he can, but usually she's only ever serious about research or school; everything else is snarks-away with the girl. "So if Dad and Mom ever get like, infected by some evil-mind-warping-_thing_, then, I'll protect you."

"You're an eleven-year-old girl," Jamie reminds her in a very Pepper-esque tone.

"No, I'm an eleven-year-old genius," his sister corrects him with a laugh. "And more importantly," there's no mirth in her voice now, "I'm your big sister. That means I look out for you. No matter how old I am or how annoying you are."

There's another silence, a delicate thing, balanced to the point that Tony fears even breathing might disturb it. Then:

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Tony actually has to wipe his eyes as he quietly backs away. He knows his kids are good kids but things like this…All of the doubts that he has about the job he and Pepper have done disappear.

He sets the table himself; it gives him time to collect before Jamie and Phil smell pizza and come charging down the stairs, elbowing one another to get ahead. Pepper scolds but all Tony can do is smile; he has two _wonderful_ kids.

**Part Eleven: Twelve Years, One Month**

**Song: Garbage-When I Grow Up**

**Words: 156**

"This is bullshit." Phil crosses her arms and glares at her mother. "I don't want it, make it go away."

"Sweetheart, come on, it's not bad," Pepper tries to console their girl. "It can even be a really beautiful thing!"

"Who the fuck lied to you?!" Phil demands incredulously and, for a split second, Tony's actually scared she'll start swinging. He edges himself farther down the hall and exchanges a very worried look with Jamie.

Tony, for once in his life, is _very_ glad to be banned from a conversation with his daughter. There is no amount of money or any piece of technology that could be traded to get him to sit in on the Period Talk. No. Fucking. Way.

"Come on, Buddy," he scoops Jamie up and heads down the back way into the garage as the _real_ arguing starts. "We're going to the store. We need to buy chocolate. _All_ of the chocolate."

**Part Twelve: Fourteen Years**

**Song: Interpol-PDA**

**Words: 612**

"Tony, stop spying on them, they aren't going to try anything right in the back yard," Pepper scolds him as he peeps down onto Phil's birthday party from the living room window. It's a relatively small gathering, just Bucky, Max and a few other friends their age. Innocent enough, he supposes, but he still doesn't like that their bonfire isn't in full view for him.

He snorts and rolls his eyes at her. "Uh, 'scuse me, I don't know what kind of teenager _you_ were but I know that I—"

"Shouldn't think too hard on that," Pepper cuts him off. "Because I'm not going to let you ground her for no reason."

She's right, of course. Still, it's hard not to peer down at the beach from behind the curtains.

He's not stupid, he knows that Phil is going to have her wild years just like he did (god help him, he'll survive them). That doesn't make him any less disenchanted with the idea.

She's a pretty girl, or pretty young woman, rather. She's got the Stark dark features, charm, and she's strong. Phil is her father's daughter, though, from the wit to the nasty left hook she can pack. It would be ridiculous of him to think that boys (and some girls, he's not phobic) _weren't_ looking her way.

He can see her now, wedged in between Bucky and Max, shoving enough marshmallows into her mouth that it _has _to be a dare. Bucky looks torn between being embarrassed of her and amused while Max seems to be egging her on.

He loves both of those boys (they call him Uncle Tony, of course he does) and Tony often wishes one of them would declare some intention toward Phil. They'd both be easy to cow, given how close he is to their parents. Bucky's his father in face _and_ awkward charm; he'd be the type to bring a date home by ten o'clock, probably too afraid to steal a kiss all evening. Max isn't a choir boy but he _is _good, and more importantly, he respects Tony.

Unfortunately, for him, the trio are very clearly platonic and make the queasiest faces whenever anyone suggests otherwise.

Tony honestly never thought he'd be an overbearing, jealous father; or rather _think_ about being one because Pepper crushes anything he lets out quite viciously. She may need protection from super villains (debatably, given her first encounter with one ended with her finding the strength to shoot first) but she'll never need him to defend her honor. Nasty Left Hook and sidekicks Roundhouse, and Jab have her back there.

He'll give her the room to grow and discover too, even if it kills him. Which, he suspects it certainly _could_, when seats change and she's suddenly perched next to some kid with a mohawk and too-white teeth.

Irrational behavior, he decides, as he forces himself to join Pepper on the couch, has to be a biological thing for fathers with daughters.

His wife takes pity on him, noticing the pout that's starting to form. Pepper closes her laptop and his head replaces it. Chuckling, she runs her fingers through his hair.

"Poor baby," she coos. "Don't worry; she'll always love you best."

"You think?"

"Of course, she's you with matching X chromosomes. Love like that is unbreakable."

Tony smiles against the fabric of her skirt; Pepper always knows just what to say.

**Part Thirteen: Fifteen Years, Seven Months**

**Song: Eurythmics-I Saved the World Today**

**Words: 768**

Of course, it would be his kids who'd eventually invent a time machine. Really, he shouldn't be surprised, but it's still hard not to be when a much older Phil, Jamie, Bucky, and a couple others from _their_ current Avengers lineup walk right through the glowing portal in the middle of Arizona.

Phil is wearing a variant of mech-armor, much sleeker than his own, but just as powerful, he finds out later on when the obliterates some of Dr. Doom's best droids with a sweep of her arm. She's taller, her hair is cut quite short, and there's a huge scar he sees on her chest later that hasn't been made yet. She won't tell him where it comes from (she won't/cant' tell him a lot of things) but assures him that it all works out for the best. Her smile when she says it is still the one that the girl he knows flashes to him, though, so he's confident it's the truth.

Jamie has no armor, save for a force field generated from a wristband he wears. He's still thin, with blue eyes that haven't been dampened by whatever lies ahead, but his freckles are muted and he wears his hair in a ponytail now. The most mind-blowing thing that _he's_ got for Tony is that he's happily married…to _Max_. Given that it's been noted how much his currently ten-year-old son likes to admire men's biceps—but doesn't care to work out himself—Tony's mind isn't all that blown. His son is his son and all that matters is the happy part.

Though, he fantasizes that he, Natasha, and Clint make spectacular in-laws to each other. Poor boys must dread every holiday.

Bucky is Steve with a different costume and haircut; that's both incredibly comforting and hilarious to Tony.

They win their big, time-clash battle (of course they do, they're the Avengers) mostly unscathed. Tony's glad the world is safe but another part of him is very sad when the portal is opened back up. His children are kick-ass adults and he's going to miss these different but still familiar people.

Bucky, Jamie, and Phil are the last to leave, hanging back to speak while they direct their team back (or forward) to where they belong.

"There's one more thing we need to do," Jamie says, handing over a sealed case to Fury.

"Don't bother trying to open it now," Phil tells them, tapping the metal siding. "It's time locked. It'll pop apart on the date on the lock." The date reads almost two years from the current time.

"_And_ if you fiddle with it, it'll self-destruct," her brother adds. At the raised eyebrows of the senior Avengers, he shrugs. "Sorry, it's important to the time stream. Just trying to elaborate the 'don't fuck with that'."

"But it _is_ needed, so, you know, don't lose it," Phil laughs.

"Really don't," Bucky says.

"What's it for?" Clint asks.

All three kids, well, technically not kids anymore, shake their heads.

"Sorry, Unc," Phil tells him. "Rules. You gotta wait. I promise it isn't a bomb, though."

"That's strangely not comforting," Fury says.

Phil grins back at him. "Yeah, I know. Sorry."

"And that's our cue," Bucky says, glancing over his shoulder at the Portal. "Sorry to cut the visit short but…"

"Yeah, time's a wasting, we get it," Tony says.

Both of his kids groan in unison.

"Terrible."

"So bad."

Still, they both hug him, just like they always do. That much too, is apparently unchanged in the years lying down the road. Tony is very, very, _very_ glad of that.

"Love you, Pop."

"Love you."

He nods, trying to memorize their faces, wondering if the memories will keep true as he waits for them to come around again. "Love you both. Be good."

Phil snorts as her mask goes down. "Please, I'm an angel."

"Only because she's good at not getting caught," Jamie snickers.

They wave and walk shoulder to shoulder back to their future; to his future too, Tony supposes. Maybe it's just the light generated by the portal but it looks like a nice bright one. He'll just have to find out for himself, though.

Then he looks over at the suitcase, and the clock slowly ticking down upon its lock. It brings up the most uncomfortable weight to settle in the pit of his gut and the hope that's just been inspired in him deflates a bit. Tony has the strangest idea—or rather _certainty_—that when that thing opens, it will not be a pleasant thing.

He goes home to his family that night and does his very best not to think about Jamie shouting orders under fire, scars, or countdown clocks. Those are going to be occupying his life soon enough.

* * *

**Notes**

1. Bucky, in the Marvel Comics Verse, has a bunch of different incarnations (like pretty much _all_ comic book characters). My Bucky isn't taken from any of them. He was engineered by a group trying to recreate the super soldier formula with some of Steve's stolen blood. When the blood started to run out they turned to cloning, because, hey, why _not_ have a live specimen? The clone who's become Bucky Rogers is actually just one in a not long but still unfortunate line. He was put in stasis at birth with computers feeding him, teaching him, and keeping his muscles from going into atrophy for five years before SHEILD managed to track their location and sent the team in. Since the kid _was_ technically related via DNA, Fury allowed Steve to adopt him rather than ship him away for more experimentation. As you can tell, at this point, Cap's getting his feet wet with this whole "Dad" situation.

2. Shockwave _is_ an actual Comic Verse Iron Man villain, albeit not a major one. I inserted him because he had a mech suit.

3. A nano rifle is a type of gun that fires rounds which eat through surfaces. Or in this case bad guys. I shamelessly stole the idea for it straight from Red Faction: Guerilla. If you haven't played it yet, I highly recommend it; if for no other reason than the "Wrecking Crew" multiplayer is probably the most awesome thing ever. Especially when you use the sledgehammer on some barrels.

4. Franklin Benjamin Richards is an actual character in the Marvel universe and his dad did in fact put him into a coma when his mutant powers went out of control. He was around five or so, I think? I believe he's since been cured but don't quote me on that; Fantastic Four was never my favorite anyway. I'm of the "Mr. Fantastic is Fantastic Douchebag" school of thought, personally.

5. Max is an OC, not based on anyone. He was a war orphan adopted by Clint and Natasha when he was five. He'll probably have some sort of superpowers/skills later on, though, considering he's been reared by _two_ Avengers.

6. Anna, Max's little sister, is also adopted (and an OC, while we're at it). No one knows anything about her. Natasha and Fury are the only ones who have ever had access to her file. The story Natasha tells everyone is that she found the girl, who was four at the time, wandering around the Johannesburg, South African compound Natasha had been sent to sweep. Aside from not talking until she was eight, Anna is a normal girl. That'll probably change, though, given that this is a superhero verse and all.


	2. After The Credits Roll

**Author's Note:** I wasn't going to add any more to this, but in honor of the Marvel Movie-verse's proud tradition of Easter Egging, I thought that this was more than appropriate.

Here you go.

* * *

Phil comes down on the other side of the portal with a thud, skidding two feet or so until the few seconds of Vertigo wear off; mild disorientation is one of the side effects of time travel. Luckily for her, _she_ has a suit to protect her and boost stabilization. Bucky, Jamie, and the rest of their little troupe? Not so lucky.

Steadying Bucky by the arm, she reaches for her brother only to find Max has beaten her to it. Across the room one of the junior members, Elbret, is actually green and slightly keeled.

She's already postulating the variables that induce vertigo with time travel. Does the amount of time itself factor in? They hadn't experienced anything so hard in the short spaced trial runs. Perhaps the weight? So far _she's_ the steadiest one around so perhaps IQ factors?

"Is that everyone?" Director Lewis cuts through into her thoughts. Since Fearless Leader (Bucky) is still having trouble standing, Phil takes it upon herself to give the older woman a thumbs up.

"We're good, boss, close her down," she calls. Elbret heaves what appears to be mostly digested seven-layer burrito onto the nice clean tile of Lab R20. "Mostly."

Lewis rolls her eyes. "Dammit. Would the medical team like to do their jobs? Get Elbret's skinny ass checked out _away_ from the equipment. And take Ginger Stark and Rogers with you."

Jamie—now being _carried_ by Max—goes without a fuss. Bucky, on the other hand, has to pretend that he has some pride.

"I'm fine," he protests, shaking his arm from Phil's grasp. She lets him go without a word. "I'm not that—WHOA!" And down he goes.

Lewis has the decency to only look _slightly_ amused with this. Crossing her arms she leans forward waits until Bucky's rolled up onto his knees before giving him The Eyebrow.

"Dictate your mission statement to one of the juniors," she tells him with a nod in the direction of several SHIELD underlings. "Then get checked out and get some rest. We clear, Soldier?"

Bucky, never one to argue a direct order (especially when he's on the floor), yields and accepts Phil's hand. She helps him to his feet and once again steadies him; this time her best friend nods in thanks. He salutes Lewis.

"Sir, yes, Sir."

She nods. "Go on then. Stark, wait for me in the debriefing room." She claps her hands together loudly, drawing the attention of the entire room. "Come on people, I want this goddamn tear in space time sewn up yesterday. Chop, chop!"

"I'll be fine," Bucky tells Phil when a medic and an agent with a tablet walk over. The medic divests him of his shield and hooks the arm she took it from over her shoulders, not a word said. "Really. Go take care of business, Phil."

"_You're_ my business," she reminds him, only half-joking as she swats his arm and turns. Bucky is her oldest friend, not to mention her closest. She loves him and his well-being means a great deal to her. Still, Phil isn't much of a coddler so she takes Bucky for his word and heads up the stairs, calling orders for detailed reports and recordings of the portal generator to be ready for her ASAP as she goes.

On the short walk to the debriefing room, Phil starts retracting her armor. Bit by bit the millions of nano machines that make up her suit retract back to the central computer at her waist. Except for the arc reactor glowing brilliantly at the center, she always thinks that the thing makes a snazzy (albeit chunky) belt. By the time Phil hits her destination, she's down to the more comfortable microfiber suit she prefers to wear beneath her armor. It isn't her natural element (jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers) but it she can feel the air conditioning ruffling her short—and surely sweat-matted—hair, and that's all that counts for now.

The relaxed, mission-accomplished feeling that was _just _starting to seep into her bones starts to flutter away right before the doors to the debriefing room open up. Phil doesn't put much stock in premonitions, at least not for her, but there's always been one thing her gut has been very good at predicting.

"Tell me, how did it go?"

She crosses her arms, returning the inquisitive gaze with her own. "Didn't Lewis ban you from the helicarrier?"

He laughs. "She decided that my expertise was worth my grating upon her delicate nerves."

Phil can't help but snort. "Really? Wow. She got lowballed."

"Perhaps. Now, tell me, they have it, do they not?" Apprehension lines those blue eyes and Phil takes some pity on him, nodding.

"They do."

"Yet I detect that you aren't thrilled with what you've done."

Phil shrugs; she isn't, though not for the reasons _he_ might think. "I remember what'll go down around the time that that lock pops open. Isn't a really thrilling recollection."

Her hand goes to her chest out of instinct, fingers curling along the long jagged scar that marks her left breast and sternum. She can still _feel_ how it was made. Recall the fear as life slipped from her body; remember vividly what it was like to choke on her own blood when it filled up her lungs. More than that, she still feels the real losses of that time.

Phil's scar is a blessing, all things considered.

He smiles down at her. No, "smile" is too generous on her part he is _smirking_. "Regrets? That's unusually sentimental of you, Phyllis."

She scowls back, though not with much malice. When he's right, he's right. "Well, literally walking through your past can have that effect on you." She takes her turn to smirk. "Maybe for the next trial run we should traipse through _yours_? I've always been curious as to what I'd see on Jotunheim roughly eight hundred years ago."

Up go the eyebrows and he steps forward, invading her personal space. "Have you? Truly?" There's a spark in those blue irises and Phil can never be sure if it's intrigue or irritation. With him, they're pretty interchangeable.

"Hey, lying's your game, Loki," she reminds him, deciding that she doesn't care either way about the spark. Her last seventy-two hours have been pretty heavy; baiting the Liesmith is amusing. Phil could go for some amusement. "I would _never_ cut in on your shtick."

The reply blooming on his lips is cut off by Lewis.

"Later, you two," she orders with a snap of her fingers. "Save the charming repartee for closed doors. You," of course she's pointing to Phil as she plops into one of the expensive looking chairs surrounding the table, "give me _all_ the juicy gossip on this Doctor Who shit we've gotten ourselves into. You," it's Loki's turn for the ice-eyes of eternal-dissatisfaction, "…Just sit. No distractions." Her face slides into an unusual seriousness. "Phil, _please_ tell me that our lil' package was delivered."

"Yeah, Darcy," Phil tells her. "They've got the Tesseract back."

* * *

**Author's Note Deux:** See you in "Mother's Two Good Eyes", the next bit in this 'verse.


End file.
